Incandescence
by TheGraveyardChild
Summary: Based on the WebToon comic by Diby Doodle. It's just a one-shot, to be placed after episode 25 of the webcomic. This one-shot shows the struggles of the character Erart as he tries to come to terms with King Harold's way of life.


_Erart's Perspective_

It was late, and Erart found himself wandering the halls of King Harold's castle in Dorthore. He couldn't sleep. He found it hard sometimes for a couple of reasons. Despite being fully healed, he still found that he had an ache in his mended bones as a reminder of his injuries. Tonight, when the draft in his room was particularly miserable, he found himself restless. He couldn't lie down in that bed even though he secretly knew that it was better than his back home. The chill still got to him, and rather than ask a maid to tend to the flames in the fireplace, he preferred to stretch his aching leg with a late-night walk. These walks also allowed him time to think, which he found difficult these days, too.

He missed his home back in Forrod. He missed his friends and his family back home, but most of all, he missed that crisp familiarity that his home had to him. He supposed he was becoming more and more familiar with Harold's castle as time went by, but it sorely lacked certain nuances that made it a home to him. That aside, it wasn't all that bad in the castle. He understood why the people loved their King. Dorthore was beautiful and fair and run well, but he couldn't get past how deeply these people lived in sin. The King lived in sin himself. He had _courted_ a man. Silendor, the old scriptures, described marriage between that of a man and a woman, not two people of the same sex. Erart desperately wanted to call Harold a friend, but the King was a sinner and he allowed his people to sin as well. How could someone with such a weak will and mind be a good King let alone Erart's friend? Erart had to admit that loving whomsoever you pleased was a tempting offer, but that was how sin was designed to be. Tempting.

Erart was so conflicted. Between his aches and his conflicting thoughts, how was anyone to expect him to sleep?

Erart wandered the castle with a candle in his hand. He had been up and about for some time now. The wax of the candle was waning as the flame continued to burn it down to a short, lumpy stump. He figured he had about thirty or so minutes before the light dwindled into nothingness. That was enough time for him. It was late anyway, and he was sure he'd have another adventure like this in the near future. For now, he figured he'd explore a little more.

The prince found himself wandering to a portion of the castle that he seldom visited, which is the glass-paned hall and doors that looked out onto the gardens. He looked at them, separated by a slightly frosted window. His warm fingertips touched the glass as he looked out, forming foggy rings around them. The garden was covered in layers of crystalline snow that glittered in the moonlight. At the garden's center was a small pond that was completely frozen over. It reminded him ever so slightly of home. There was a pond in his gardens in Forrod that he sat beside when his head was full of thoughts he just counted sort out. Tonight, beside that frozen little pond was where he needed to be.

Erart slipped through the door that led out into the gardens. It was cold, and the shock of bitterness hit him like a smack to the face. He wasn't exactly dressed for this weather. He had quickly thrown on a loose-fitting white shirt and a dark pair of trousers with beaten up riding boots. Not winter weather in the least, but he would brave the cold to have the comforts of home for just a little while at best.

Erart wrapped his arms around himself and sighed gently. It was certainly beautiful here, and he desperately wanted to believe the people here were, too, but... Their ideals challenged what he was raised to believe. The people here were so happy, but was happiness a good enough excuse to live in sin? It was either face damnation for all of eternity for happiness in life or an eternity in paradise to live in misery. It baffled Erart that these people would choose to be damned. The latter choice was obviously what he would choose. He feared, however, the longer he stayed in his captor's care, the more unsure he would be of that decision. Being here, living under Harold's roof for so long already... Those ideals were slipping through his ironclad wall of beliefs. This place, this castle, these people had become his new life, his new home. He had started to care for his captor despite what he knew to be best, even maybe more so than just a friend. And he knew if he admitted those feelings, he'd be damned and his father would never let him return home.

And despite consistently pointing out that Harold himself was weak, Erart felt hypocritical and traitorous tears slip from his eyes and down his frost-nipped cheeks.

_Harold's Perspective_

Harold couldn't sleep. His mind had been racing, too. He couldn't get Erart out of his head. He was positively infatuated with the prince. He was, first off, handsome. It was a wonder in itself that some woman hadn't already courted and married him. Then again, the war had seen to that. He also had this charm about him, this boyish innocence that despite all odds, drove Harold crazy. The more time he spent with the prince, the more he found himself craving his attention and his companionship. He cared for him in a deeper way than a friend would, but he couldn't say just yet that he loved him. And he would never admit this to Erart. The prince was disgusted with him because he had shared a bed with Eins. But he was stuck in Harold's head and he couldn't get him out. The gardens always had such a nice effect on him. They always let him clear his mind of the stressors of life.

What Harold didn't expect to see in the middle of the night was the very person he was trying to escape. Standing at the water's edge, silver hair glistening in the moonlight, was Erart. Harold almost turned away, but something about the way Erart stood there made Harold go out there. First off, the idiot wasn't wearing a coat or a cloak or anything of the sort. Also, it was quite unlike the prince to be out of bed and in the garden this late anyway. And finally, as the prince stood under the moonlight, he seemed to emit an incandescent sort of glow. It was beautiful.

It didn't seem that Erart noticed him approaching. At least, if he did, he made no sign of it. Harold noted almost immediately that Erart's shoulders shook with... sobs? The prince before him was sobbing, and his sobs seemed so heartwrenching and pained. They tore at Harold's heartstrings. What could have caused sobs such as these?

The King only knew one thing to do. He took off his thick, woolen cloak and gracefully draped it over Erart's shaking shoulders. The prince stilled as soon as he was alerted to Harold's presence. He very hastily wiped away his tears before turned to face Harold.

Erart's cheeks were flushed a bright red. Harold could hardly tell whether or not it was from the cold or his sobs, but Harold assumed the latter. His eyes were also red from the tears.

"W-What do you want?" Erart asked, his voice quiet and broken.

Instead of answering, Harold enveloped Erart into a tight hug. "I don't know what has you in such a state, but I don't like when you cry if I am around... I'd rather see you smile."

Erart's arms wrapped Harold in return, and the sobs came back full force. "I am so confused..." he whispered. "All my life I've been so sure of who I am. What I want. What I believe in. But now that I'm here, now that I've met you, I've never been so unsure. What is this?"

Harold whispered back to Erart in the darkness. "It's called being human."


End file.
